Soft Closer Of Our Eyes! Low Murmur

Sudden A Thought Came Like A Full-blown Rose, Flushing His Brow.

My Love Is Selfish. I Cannot Breathe Without You.

Where The Nightingale Doth Sing Not A Senseless, Tranced Thing, But Divine Melodious Truth.

With A Great Poet The Sense Of Beauty Overcomes Every Other Consideration, Or Rather Obliterates All Consideration.

Love In A Hut, With Water And A Crust, Is - Love, Forgive Us! - Cinders, Ashes, Dust.